


lost souls and reverie

by Umbrella_ella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella
Summary: Hermione is on holiday and runs into the most unexpected person.Based on a prompt: Hermione and Severus bumping into one another at a bookshop.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	lost souls and reverie

The golden summer sun created streaks on the dusty panes of the shop, the door creaking shut behind her with a groan, muffling the noise of busy beachgoers and laughing children on holiday. Hermione sighed, grateful to the small space for lending her some peace. Her parents had been insistent upon a holiday, though her skills had been needed at St. Mungo's; in the end, they had compromised with a booking at a floo-enabled inn in case of emergency.

A wizened witch, grey hair knotted into a bun, flyaway wisps of grey gathering about her ears, gave a her nod, her mouth curling into a cursory smile.

"Welcome, Miss."

The old woman made herself scarce as quickly as she had appeared, secreting away behind the tall, sloping shelves. From the outside, the bookshop was small, barely a broom closet, but Hermione saw now that it was a slim space with bookshelves lining the walls as far back as the eye could see. Some of the dusty tomes were stacked as high as her brow, rickety piles leaning to and fro, their gold-leaf letters flaking and chipped here and there. Hermione shifted, the floorboards squeaking beneath her trainers and she began at the far left shelf; her eyes drawn to the top of the shelf, to the books that hadn't been touched in years, the cobwebs catching the stream of sunlight ebbing in from the gap in between the wooden slats.

Golden letters on faded leather stood out, and Hermione found her fingers itching with the familiar need to cradle that knowledge close, to consume it as quickly it had captured her. She found herself reaching for it, but her fingertips could barely brush the shelf. Her hair frizzed around her forehead, and an errant strand tickled at her brow. She rose again, standing on her tiptoes in a desperate and futile attempt to grab at the volume.

"Here," a voice said behind her, "allow me."

A thin, pale hand appeared, spindled fingers plucking the book from the shelf and deposited it before her. Puzzled and grateful at once, Hermione took the book, and spun to thank the stranger.

Her breath caught.

It had been so long, more than a year since the Final Battle and the last time she'd seen him.

Coal-black eyes stared back, unblinking, and, if it weren't for the flicker of surprise, she might say disinterested. Severus Snape had changed; his face was drawn and sallow, his cheeks hollow and his nose even more pronounced than before. His hair, dark and fine, hung limply around his face, only serving to make him seem paler in the dim light of the shop. Hermione blinked, and suddenly, the Severus Snape of old was there once more, his arms crossed over his lithe frame, a sneer curling his lip.

"Granger," he spoke, though his voice lacked the venom it once had, and Hermione noticed the way his throat worked as he swallowed nervously, as though he hadn't expected to see her.

Of course he hadn't.

A white shirt, decidely muggle in fashion, was buttoned up stiffly, hiding his neck carefully, though Hermione knew what lay there against his wan skin. The barest hint of silver was visible, and her eyes traced the rest of the wound that hid beneath the silk, and Severus shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze. She couldn't help but recall the feeling of warm blood between her fingers, the way it had slicked against her palms as she had pressed into the gaping wound at his neck, her knuckles brushing his stringy hair away from his jaw where sweat and blood had collected the strands in her clumsy, albeit successful, attempt to save him.

"Thank you," she remarked clumsily, a loss for words making her sound like a fool, and Severus' thin lips became thinner at that, his eyebrows drawn together in a look she recalled far too vividly from her time at school.

"Of course," he spoke curtly, turning away, and Hermione would have thought the conversation over, but then, she did break convention when necessary.

"What-- what are you doing here, Professor?" Hermione regretted the words as soon as they slipped from her lips, and she frowned in annoyance at herself.

Severus dropped unceremoniously into a chair nearby, one that earlier escaped her notice, the leather groaning loudly in the quiet, and thumbed through the novel previously abandoned on the small tea table nearby. Peering closer, Hermione noted that it was a novel she'd only seen but once in her treks through the Restricted Section at Hogwarts, something called _Dark Curses and Their Histories from the Salem Trials to Modern Times_. She might have shivered with dread two years ago, but now, now, she read worse herself, often for her work.

"Enjoying the summer sun, obviously."

The sneer in his voice was apparent, and Hermione caught a glimpse of the man she and her schoolmates had been so intimidated by. But that was the problem with saving someone's life; it really dimmed everything else in comparison. He continued, unbothered by her quiet reflection, "In fact, after this, I thought I might galavant in the waves and take joy in the laughter of small children."

Severus' new lease on life had apparently not dulled the sardonic wit she had known for six years of her life, and some small part of her was glad for it; it was what she had come to expect, she was comfortable with it, and it was familiar, as familiar as Ron's constant questions, and Harry's somber quiet.

She had missed that.

She missed her friends, who they were in the time before the War, missed the moments that were now tainted with the reminders of what was lost to them now. Even Hogwarts, made of stalwart stone, had crumbled beneath the throes of war, and everything she had known of the Wizarding World had changed in that one year. Severus Snape was an odd comfort now, a glimmer of comfort in a new world, and she found herself trying to hide the small smile that had crept upon her lips.

"Of course, Professor," she replied, though she wasn't sure she was meant to reply, or stay, for that matter. Severus' eyes snapped up to hers, calculating and nearly curious, almost in askance.

"I am no more a professor than you are a student, Miss Granger. If you'll excuse me."

That was her dismissed, then.

Hermione felt her cheeks pinken as she ducked her gaze away from his eyes, suddenly uncomfortable. She wanted very much to stay, to ask questions she knew he would never answer, but she didn't dare, so instead, she muttered a goodbye she wasn't sure he heard and turned away, barely pausing for a moment, so brief it felt like time hadn't stopped at all.

She wanted to turn back, to see him again, to see the life filling those dark eyes once more, a reminder that all of the tiresome fighting, all of the work they had done, all of the grief that shrouded the Wizarding World was worth it somehow. Life had guttered and dimmed in them once, and she had seen to it that he could have the life he deserved, had saved him in the only way she knew how, knitting flesh and muscle back together with shaking hands and what magic she knew.

Of course, it was all theory. Until it wasn't.

Until a man's life lay in the balance. Whatever Harry and Ron thought of the man sprawled out on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack no longer mattered, not truly. He had saved Harry, time and time again, asking not for praise, not for fanfare; the man in front of her was dying, and she would damned if she didn't try to save him. She recalled a deep red, sticky on her palms, the splash of ruby staining her shoes, and as she shook the thoughts away, she nearly expected to be back there, in that place filled with blackness and evil and the coppery scent of death.

Instead, she heard the slight peal of laughter outside, the gulls on the beach crying, and remembered herself with a start.

Hermione said nothing more as she strode to the counter, her hands trembling suddenly in a way that she hadn't known in a long time. She paid for the book, handing over her galleons and taking the change without really hearing the woman bid her a goodbye, and escaped into the sunlight, her cheeks still burning.

If she thought about whether or not Severus Snape watched her go, that was no one's business but her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review and let me know what you think! There will be more to come.


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